


Nonagenarian

by sirius123



Series: Final Fantasy XIV Writing Challenge 2020 [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Death, Grief, Learning to move on, Other, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius123/pseuds/sirius123
Summary: Larka loses her first patient not long after her mother slips into the Lifestream, and she not quite sure what to do now.
Series: Final Fantasy XIV Writing Challenge 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907170





	Nonagenarian

**Author's Note:**

> Had a bit of a scare with my grandfather this past weekend, so this hits a little hard.

The first patient Larka lost after her mother died was an old man named Allen. She had been taking care of him for a few moons, treating him carefully, like a glass doll, and he would tease her constantly, promising the young girl he still had a few years left in him before he kicked the bucket. But still, she had been so careful with him. It had only been a few moons since her mother slipped away into the lifestream, and she couldn’t bear another loss so soon.

He was a kind man, with a little bit of a potty mouth, but Larka grew to love him, probably more than a healer should for an ailing patient. He would give her sweets he bought just for her. He would tell her stories of how he met his wife, how they had fallen in love. His face would beam with pride when he talked about his daughter, telling her how she had moved to Ul’dah to follow her dream to be a Goldsmith, and though he hadn’t heard from her in years, he was sure she had become the best the Guild had ever seen. Larka often wondered if this was what it was like to have a grandfather, to be spoiled with treats and interesting stories. She enjoyed being around him.

He had a condition similar to Fell’s, where sometimes he would have a hard time breathing like there were cobwebs in his lungs. She was familiar with how to heal the condition, so the Guild had given her the man as her patient, always calling for her so she could wrap healing light around him, to pull the cobwebs from his chest. It made her better at helping Fell, though her brother’s condition was not quite as bad as Allen’s. Allen required near-constant healing, coming in once a week, where Fell only required it maybe once every other moon. She was grateful for the chance to be able to help both of them better.

A whole moon before he died, he found himself unable to leave his bed, so she would go to him. She would let flowing light flow through him and would be overjoyed when she heard the stuttering sound of him taking a deep breath. He’d thank her, and she would stay, brewing him tea and helping him hang his laundry. It was so sad, to see him alone. Since he had not heard from his own daughter in years, and his wife had passed away the spring before, he was lonely, and Larka saw that. So she took special care of him, so he wouldn’t be alone.

It was because of him that she began to work on a bitter tea that would ease his symptoms. She would test it on Fell, having him breathe in the steam and drink the herbal tea, watching how he would react. It was the day he died that she finally finished the tea, overjoyed that she could make this man’s life easier, rushing to his side only to find him dead in his bed.

She wept as the other Conjurers took him away. It was too soon, too soon after her mother left them, and the grief gripped her tight, digging its claws into her as one of her seniors comforted her. 

“It’s alright, Larka,” he soothed her, though it didn’t help much. He gently rubbed her back as the teenager sobbed into her hands. “It was his time.”

“It’s not fair,” she wept, and the man nodded.

“It never is,” he said gently. “But you were with him, Larka. You took good care of him. Look at him. Do you see the look on his face?” She didn’t want to look but did anyways before they wrapped his body in soft burial linens. His face was calm, like he was simply sleeping, a small smile on his lips. “Do you see how content he is? That’s because of you, dear.”

That eased her heart a little, and though the tears still flowed down her cheeks, she felt her heart calm, just a little bit. The older Conjurer stayed with her when they went to his funeral and soothed her once more when she cried as they buried him.

“It’s alright to be sad,” he told her. “And it’s alright to be angry. Use those feelings to help other patients. Use that energy to help make them better.”

So she did. Larka lost many patients after Allen, either to disease or accidents or even when the moon fell from the sky and brought injured soldiers to her. She would remember the sorrow of losing her friend and work as hard as she could so others wouldn’t lose their loved ones, but sometimes, it was just too late. And she would weep but move on and try with all her might to save anyone she could.

She still remembers Allen with a heavy heart, but she is always grateful to him, for teaching her a lesson. For teaching her how life could be fleeting but still full of love and happiness and sorrow and pain. And though she still cries after every person lost, she moves on.

She would never forget her old friend. She would live and work and remember him and be forever grateful for meeting him.


End file.
